


Sunless

by benedictcumberlongpond



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictcumberlongpond/pseuds/benedictcumberlongpond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short piece about Artemis Trevelyan, introspective in the Western Approach. </p>
<p> As a child, Artemis had believed that the sun was the Maker. People averted their eyes to the ceiling when they beseeched him, and spoke of Him as a presence that sustained life. It had made sense to her, given her something real to grasp to, to turn her face towards, to feel gently warming the back of her neck.</p>
<p>Artemis had watched each sunset with apprehension, the last orange peels of His light scratching fluorescent claw-marks into the darkening sky, plunging Thedas into a chilled blue-hued wasteland that had felt as close to Godless existence as her 11 year old mind could comprehend.</p>
<p>Her chest had tightened with the memory as she strode the sands of the Western Approach, the sky here bluer and clearer than Ostwick, the sun changing the landscape dramatically from smooth, even plains to jagged shadow-black slopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunless

 As a child, Artemis had believed that the sun was the Maker. People averted their eyes to the ceiling when they beseeched him, and spoke of Him as a presence that sustained life. It had made sense to her, given her something real to grasp to, to turn her face towards, to feel gently warming the back of her neck.

Artemis had watched each sunset with apprehension, the last orange peels of His light scratching fluorescent claw-marks into the darkening sky, plunging Thedas into a chilled blue-hued wasteland that had felt as close to Godless existence as her 11 year old mind could comprehend.

Her chest had tightened with the memory as she strode the sands of the Western Approach, the sky here bluer and clearer than Ostwick, the sun changing the landscape dramatically from smooth, even plains to jagged shadow-black slopes.

The sun had punished her party through the day, beating red onto their skin and drinking water from them until she felt as though perhaps the Maker _was_ the sun, and this was her penance for letting Haven burn. Bull’s penance for disobeying the Qun. Varric’s penance for hiding Hawke. Dorian’s penance for his hedonistic lifestyle.

“The sun is _finally_ setting,” Dorian huffed, wiping sweat from his forehead with one hand as they crested a dune, looking down over the darkening valley filled with hyenas and quillbacks, their shifting footsteps disturbing the sand as their shapes distorted against the diminishing light.

“And now comes the cold,” Varric answered, pulling a scowl from their mage’s features.

“Are we setting up camp or continuing on?” Bull asked Artemis, his eyes stuck on the castle-shaped outline stark on the horizon.

Servis was inside, as well as a dozen other Venatori. The camp was close, but so was their goal, and Artemis weighed the options in her mind.

“How are you all feeling?” She asked, turning to face them each in turn.

“Oh, _peachy,”_ Dorian replied. His eyes were tired but his smile said the same thing each of their faces held: a desire to push their bodies, to jump and run and _kill_ until they were exhausted enough to collapse.

Anything to avoid those moments before sunrise where all they could do was stare at the canvas roofs of their tents and remember each awful event that had occurred in the past few months.

Artemis nodded. “Let’s get Servis, then we’ll make camp.”

She stepped on the decline, feeling as sand gave way beneath her feet, feeling as the last rays of sun trickled up her body, plunging her into shadow as she led her party towards the remnants of a castle.

 

“You reckon this leads into the castle?” Varric asked, nodding at the cave entrance.

“I’d say so.” Bull replied.

Artemis vaulted the short wall to survey the cave, noting the astrarium standing heavily against the stone. She placed one hand against it, feeling the unnaturally chilled metal seep through her glove, pulsing against her heartbeat and cooling her whole body in a few moments. She shoved against it, the metal scraping filing her ears and forcing images to her mind.

_Metal on metal scraping in the forge, the horses snorting, Blackwall leaning against a wooden wall and arguing something with Dennett._

_“Need some help?” Harritt asked in his accent-roughened voice._

“Need some help?” Dorian asked, coming over to where Artemis had paused, her hands half-sticking to the frozen surface of the astrarium.

“No I… I don’t want to make too much noise. Let’s leave it for now,” she said quietly, stepping towards the cave instead and clenching her hands to fists.

“Let’s kill some Venatori then, shall we?” Dorian said, a smile in his voice as he lit a small flame to the tip of his staff, illuminating the stone walls around them.

Artemis felt very small against the structure, and she felt herself sway backwards slightly as she gathered courage in her stomach.

A hand landed on her back, almost encompassing both shoulders, hot like a second sun as she turned her eyes up to meet Bull’s.

“You ok, boss?” He asked, his voice rumbling quietly, crackling wood in a hearth fire.

She nodded, swallowing and stepping forwards, feeling the night air greedily seep into the places Bull had warmed as she led them into the cave.

 

The ruins were swarming with enemy activity, and Artemis forced her mindset away from the humanizing, gentle, compassion that her father had taught her, and into the predator and prey mindset her Huntress mother had drilled into her. Her knives were heavy in her palms, and she turned her head to crack her neck, giving Varric and then Dorian a grin.

“Ready?” She asked.

“ _Ready,”_ Bull growled from behind her, and she heard as his palms repositioned against his axe, the slight tense of his muscles making Artemis’ grin widen.

They were a force to be reckoned with, when it came down to it. They were impressive in small battles, but they could be a destructive cyclone when they needed to. She had taken down a castle filled with bandits, only these three men at her back, she had traversed the Fade and near-demolished a Blight-hardened fortress.

A few Venatori were almost laughable.

They burst into the clearing, dropping bodies faster than most men on the walls could react. When they did, Artemis could spot Servis immediately.

His staff was stabbing strikes of lightening into their party, one blast nearly catching Varric and making Artemis’ vision blur with anger.

“Bull!” She shouted, sheathing her daggers at her waist and running at him.

Bull caught her glance and nodded, bracing himself quickly with the flat of his axe against the back of his forearm. Artemis leapt forwards, planting her feet against the blade as Bull pushed upwards, launching her onto the ramparts.

She flew towards Servis, unsheathing her daggers and landing heavily against his side, one blade finding his neck as the other found his chest.

The lightening stopped, and Artemis turned her eyes to the archers. One caught her gaze and swallowed, his throat bobbing as he hurriedly attempted to knock an arrow.

Artemis grinned.

Smears of red turned a Venatori’s blue coat a dark purple as Artemis wiped her blades across his inert body, re-sheathing her daggers at her hips and heading towards the rest of her party.

Dorian was peering over Servis’ body, his staff against his back once more and a bottle of elfroot potion in one hand.

“He’s still alive,” Dorian panted, downing the contents of the small vial and tossing it over his shoulder. “We could bring him back, get information.”

“Not a terrible idea, Boss.” Bull said as Artemis stepped towards Servis, he was breathing raggedly, one hand clutched to his chest and his face contorted in pain.

“Adiuva me, frater.” He choked out, and Dorian scowled at the Tevene.

“What do you want to do, Freckles?” Varric asked, and Artemis leant down to study Servis’ face, her brain flickering between predatory and compassionate, helpful and murderous, thinking of _human life_ and thinking of the way Varric’s features had illuminated as lightening had struck the space inches from him.  

“Boss?” Bull asked, and Artemis stood suddenly and turned towards him, his hands catching her shoulders.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I just need to…” She closed her eyes, remembering the Venatori at Haven and remembering her father teaching her about decency, about how humans deserve _life._

_“Kaffas!”_ Dorian shouted as Servis moved suddenly behind her, and there was a short click and _thunk_ as Bianca silenced Servis permanently, the fire in his palm that he had been aiming at Artemis flickered and went out.

Artemis breathed out a shaky lungful of air. “I guess that settles it,” she said quickly, exhaustion settling into her bones. “Let’s go back to camp.”


End file.
